Tell Me Something
by DemonClowSorceress
Summary: SoMa. One conversation sends Soul and Maka on an emotional journey that will change their relationship for the better.
1. Preference

**Preference**

**By: DemonClowSorceress**

**Disclaimer: _Soul Eater_ doesn't belong to me. I just play with the plushies and squeeze the stuffing out of Soul!**

**Summary: There really isn't a cool way to ask your partner what her type is. But Soul really wants to know.**

* * *

It started simply enough.

"I wonder what Albarn's type is."

As Soul was in a closed stall, nobody knew that he was there. If they had, this conversation would've never gotten off the ground. None of the boys felt particularly safe talking about Maka in front of Soul Eater Evans. For obvious reasons, of course.

"I wonder what Albarn's type is," said a guy out of the blue. "She's single, right?"

"If you can call her partnership with that Deathscythe Soul Eater a platonic relationship, then yeah," said another guy. "Why are you wondering now?"

"I wanna know. She's cute."

In his stall, Soul scowled. It wasn't the first time he'd heard someone say that, but that didn't make the irritation fade. Shoot, he knew his meister was one of the coolest girls in Shibusen. She was beautiful but didn't dwell on it, strong but didn't brag about it, smart and knew it. He had to work overtime to clean out all the partnership offers and love letters that got stuffed in her locker before she found them.

"She's not clingy, or needy, or annoying like most other female meisters are," said First Guy. "Plus, she's real tough. She got Evans to Deathscythe capability _twice!_"

"I thought they screwed up the first time."

"Yeah, but they made ninety-nine souls. Point is, she's a tough girl. Fearless too - she went up against the Book of Eibon to get Death the Kidd back!" First guy let out an impressed whistle. "She's all that, and she's not bad-looking either!"

"Watch it, Nestor. If Evans catches you talking about Albarn like that - "

"Oh please, he's not dating her so what's the big deal?"

"He's still her partner. You've seen how he acts around her."

"Please," Nestor scoffed. "He's so not her type."

Soul pursed his lips together. _Like this ass has a clue as to what my meister's type is_. But to his annoyance, he found that he actually had no idea himself. That irritated him even further.

* * *

Later that night, Maka's eyes narrowed when she caught his gaze. "Soul, you're staring at me."

"Are not." He deliberately looked back at the television screen.

"What's the matter?"

_I'm curious about what type of guy my meister would date_. Unfortunately, there was no cool way to say that without sounding jealous. Even thinking it threatened to make Soul flush red with embarassment. "Heard some weird talk about somebody today," he said boredly.

"Really? About who? And what?" She scooted closer to the Deathscythe's part of the couch, her green eyes wide with interest. "Tell me!"

"What the hell, Maka!" He leaned as far away from her as possible, shocked at her intrusion of his personal space. "Not cool!"

"Then tell me!" ordered Maka. "C'mon!"

Now Soul was in a pickle. He didn't want to lie (because if Maka found out he did, she'd bash his face in and compare him to her father) but he also didn't want to tell the truth (because if Maka found out about the interest in her, she'd be over the moon). It was a lose-lose situation.

So he said, "They were talking about this meister girl's type was."

"Which girl? Maybe I know her."

"Didn't catch a name when I walked in." One white lie wouldn't damn his soul. "But it got me thinking. Do girls really care about that kind of thing?" _There_, he thought smugly. _Now she'll tell me without me asking outright_.

He caught a weird emotion pass through Maka's eyes before she shut it down. "Some do," she said in a neutral tone, starting to lean back to her side of the couch.

_Dammit! _"Why?"

"Because not all girls are the bimbos who throw themselves at any guy." There was a shot of venom in her words, and Soul knew she was speaking about the girls Spirit hung around with.

Soul chose his next words carefully. "Well, I dunno if Nestor Cartright qualifies as any guy. He was doing the talking."

"Nestor Cartright? The new Demon Spear?" A huge smile broke out over Maka's face. "Wow, any girl would be thrilled to hear what he thinks of her! He's dreamy!"

"Dreamy?" Soul repeated, unsure and uncomfortable around this glitter-and-lightbeams version of Fangirl Maka. "What, you think he's cool or something?"

"Cool? Soul, he's practically perfect!" She was clearly in heaven, her eyes wide as she stared off into space. "A real gentleman through and through! He's got this sweet brand of humor and the most gorgeous dark hair that's never out of place! And those blue eyes, oh god, they're like crystal pools you can see the sky in! When he smiles, it's like an angel is smiling at you!" She actually swooned a little - Maka, swooning! "He's courteous and never says a bad word about anyone - just about the most perfect guy ever!"

Every word cut into Soul's gut like an icicle, making him want to retch. He clenched his jaw and sealed his lips, suddenly self-conscious of his razor-sharp teeth. One hand went up to rake his hair back, changing midway to drag his bangs back down to fringe over his eyes.

If he took everything she said as confirmation of her preferences, than the type of man Maka liked...was the polar opposite of Soul.

What started out as harmless curiosity was fast-tracking his heart towards broken.

Maka didn't seem to notice his discomfort, because she kept on talking. "Wow, Nestor Cartright talking about a female meister. Wish I could've been a fly on that wall. You know he still doesn't have a partner yet? Which is weird, since he's obviously the best guy in Shibusen..."

Soul shoved to his feet. "Bathroom," he gritted out, heading there and shutting the door behind him. He twisted the faucets to let the water run for background noise, leaning over the sink to press a hand over his stinging eyes.

He'd been a fool. A stupid, gutless fool, thinking she'd say what he'd hoped she'd say. Thinking she'd say anything about liking sarcastic, dark humor or a pair of eyes the color of rubies. Of liking snow-white hair and a shark's sharp grin.

Of liking her own partner more than just as a partner.

_And as always, you assumed, Evans, _he chastised himself. _You assumed that she actually cared like that about you. And you know what they say when you assume..._

But Soul knew what he had to do. More than anything, he wanted Maka to be happy.

Even if it meant without him.

* * *

Next day after classes let out, he wasn't surprised to hear Maka squeal, "Soul, look! A letter to me!"

"Sure it's not one of mine?" he drawled, knowing full well it wasn't. He'd purposely looked at every letter he collected from her locker and left Nestor's untouched.

She stuck her tongue out at him and ripped the envelope open. Soul held his breath while trying not to appear tense, waiting as her sharp eyes read over the contents of the letter. "Oh my god," she breathed when she finished.

"What?"

"It's from Nestor Cartright. Soul, he...he..." She looked up, wonder and amazement in her green eyes. "He's asking me out on a date!"

Soul blinked, careful to show no emotion. "Wow. That is big news," he said in a dull tone. "When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon." She drew herself up smugly. "See? I am attractive. This proves it!"

"Good for fricking you."

Maka scowled, reached into her locker and withdrew her trusty dictionary. "Maka Chop!"

Soul didn't even change his breathing. His arm moved up and stopped the book cold, the spine pressing against his wrist almost six inches from his scalp. He heard Maka's breath catch; never in their partnership had he blocked a Maka Chop before. It was different. Too different.

Then again, everything was different now.

"Sorry," he said, looking at her with a plastic smile and hooded eyes. "Didn't feel like having the migraine today. Let's go, okay?"

"Sure." Stowing the book, Maka shut her locker and walked outside with him. "Soul? Are you okay?"

"Never better." The smile stayed firm as his heart chipped a little more. "Never better."

* * *

**Awww, Soul! Ugh, this had me crying! *sniff***

**Leave a review while you're here! Don't worry, there's more coming up!**


	2. Puzzlement

**Puzzlement**

**By: DemonClowSorceress**

**Disclaimer: _Soul Eater_ doesn't belong to me. I just play with the plushies and squeeze the stuffing out of Soul!**

**Summary: A date with a gentleman is Maka's greatest wish come true...isn't it?**

* * *

Maka was over the moon with happiness. It was her greatest wish come true. A true gentleman, and handsome to boot, had asked her out! She was dancing on air and singing a victory song, flying high as if the wings of her Grigori soul materialized and took her straight up to the sky. Well, at least, she should've been.

Right then, she was worried about Soul. Ever since she'd recieved the letter yesterday, he'd become very sullen and moody. More so than usual. There was an air of defeat around him, as if he'd been soundly thrashed by an enemy and now he was licking his wounds.

At first she thought it was because of Nestor's letter. But then she figured it was because she'd been asked out despite all his insults to her figure. She'd filled out some since she was thirteen, and while she wasn't as buxom as Blair or the Thompson sisters, at seventeen, Maka had a shapely figure that turned heads. (Yeah, she'd noticed the looks.)

_That's probably it_, she thought. _Soul's sulking because his teasing's useless now. I'm pretty and Nestor's asked me out on a date._ _Take that, Mr. Cooler-Than-Thou!_

Problem resolved, Maka turned to examine her wardrobe choices. Something (a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Liz) told her that her Spartoi uniform wasn't going to cut it. Same went for her plaid-skirt-and-black-trenchcoat ensemble. She wanted classy, but not formal, and comfortable, but not sloppy. Unfortunately, her wardrobe wasn't being cooperative at the moment. She'd systematically rejected every outfit she could concieveably think of, and she only had two hours until she met Nestor.

"You still not dressed?"

She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt that might've been his (their laundry sometimes melded and sometimes she got one of his mixed in with hers) but Maka's shock made her react as if he'd walked in while she was bare as a newborn. "Dammit Soul! Don't you ever knock?" she screamed.

"Door was open." He spoke briefly, no lazy slur like normal, as if he wanted to waste no time speaking. Which was another unSoul-like behavior he'd been sporting since yesterday. He cast a glance over her strewn clothes and sighed. "What, can't choose between black or white schoolgirl outfits?"

At least he was still a sarcastic ass. "For your information, I was thinking of wearing a dress," Maka retorted. "But I can't pick one."

Soul looked over the assorted dresses with no expression on his face. His hand withdrew from his pocket to pick up a hanger. It was a very pretty dress, dark green in color, with a flared skirt that stopped just above her knees. "This one," he said, handing it to her. "Wear it with that short black jacket Liz bought you. And don't wear your boots."

Maka frowned slightly, but took the clothes he indicated and stepped into her closet to change. Never before had Soul voluntarily given her advice about stuff like this. It made her wary, searching for an unterior motive. But as she trusted him, she would follow his advice.

Surprisingly, the outfit he picked was perfect for Maka. The green went with her eyes, and the black jacket hung off her in a way that showed off her chest to advantage. Adding the modest black heels she found in the back of her closet, Maka felt really good about her appearance.

His expression still completely blank, he nodded his approval. "Keep your hair loose, it'll curl a little and look a lot better than pigtails."

"Soul, what's wrong?" she asked, now a little worried. He only showed no expression when he was hiding something from her.

"Nothing." But Soul averted his eyes to stare at her bed. "You're going to be late if you don't get a move on."

"Can't you give me a lift on your bike? It's downtown."

But he shook his head. "I don't think Cartright will like you showing up to a date on the back of another guy's bike."

Maka blinked once, twice. "I - I didn't think of that." _He's right...but why didn't I think of that? _"Well, I'm off." Grabbing her purse, she petted Blair on her way out the door.

The magical cat sat up and looked back at Soul, confused. "Why are you letting Maka go, nyah~?" she asked.

"Didn't you know?" He looked almost forlorn, her cool Scythe-Boy, as he said, "I'm not what she wants."

* * *

"...and I had to admit, being the youngest weapon on the team was a little intimidating," Nestor said, flashing a shy smile. "But I learned so much from Nygus-sensei and Sid-sensei, so I was glad to be a part of it."

"That's great," Maka said, giving a smile of her own. _A gentleman at last!_ she thought. _But...why do I feel like this isn't right?_

Don't get her wrong. An hour into the date, and Maka was already enjoying herself. It just felt...like something was wrong.

But what? Everything was going so well. He laughed at her jokes, respected her wish to not talk about her papa despite his obvious desire to, held the door for her, gave her his undivided attention while she spoke, and when a group of hot girls walked by their table, his eyes never left her. He was polite, courteous, and handsome as all get-out, with orderly dark hair and perfect teeth and sky-blue eyes that sparkled.

"Your outfit is very cute," he said.

"Thank you, So - " Maka forcibly cut herself off from saying _Soul picked it out _and smoothly finished, " - so much."

"It's a bit dark, though. Doesn't really seem like you."

She shrugged. "Never judge a book by its cover," she replied with a smile. _He complimented me...but it didn't make me happy. What's up with this? _The knot in her stomach made no sense at all. This guy was perfect! Sure, that instantly made it suspicious, but this didn't feel like her being wary.

No, it just felt...different.

"Is something wrong, Maka?" Nestor asked.

_Soul wouldn't ask me that. Not that he wouldn't have noticed_. "No, it's nothing." When Nestor smiled, Maka couldn't help the blink of surprise. _Soul wouldn't have let that slide_.

Actually, she'd been comparing Nestor and Soul for the duration of the date without realizing it. Everything Nestor did was exactly the opposite of Soul's actions. Soul would've rolled his eyes, oogled the passing girls, slouched and bored and completely un-fun. Soul would be the suckiest date in the world!Right?

..._RIGHT? _she yelled at herself when admittance didn't bring any satisfaction.

After paying the check (refusing to go Dutch and racking up another Gentleman Point on Maka's list) Nestor led her for a nice stroll down through Death City. Their path brought them to the music shop. Habit made Maka head inside to browse the selection, and like a good gentleman, Nestor followed. "You listen to jazz?" he asked, somewhat surprised at the record she had in her hands.

"I don't understand it very well," she confessed. "But a friend keeps telling me to give it a shot." _I've got to stop bringing up Soul!_

Nestor shook his head. "Too weird for my tastes. I like electronica myself."

Maka's eyebrow rose. "Trance fusion."

"Really? Wow, that's cool!"

She nodded. "Um, do you play?" _Like, piano?_

"Keyboard. Some drums too. You?"

"No."

Nestor smiled again. "Maybe I could play for you sometime."

**_I doubt your keyboard's as good as Soul's piano_.**

Maka shocked herself at the sharp condescension from her inner self. _Argh, stop it! He's not Soul! He's not Soul! _she chided herself.

Aloud, she only said, "Hm."

* * *

They were passing her favorite spot overlooking Death City when Nestor spoke again. "This has been a lot of fun."

"It has,"she agreed. _So why do I feel so...disappointed?_

"Actually, I asked you on this date for a reason." Pausing, Nestor turned to face Maka. "I was...I was wondering..." He glanced away, then back to her as a small blush touched his cheeks.

_Aww, he's embarrassed,_ Maka thought.

"Well...maybe you would...I mean...what I mean to ask you is..."

_**Where**** the hell's his spine at? **_drawled her condescending self (who sounded surprisingly like Soul.) _**Just spit it out already!**_

"Would you...would you like to be my - "

"MAAAAKAAAA!"

* * *

**Geez, Maka! Get with it already!**

**And oh my, who could that shout belong to?**

**Leave a review while you're here!**


	3. Revelation

**Revelation**

**By: DemonClowSorceress**

******Disclaimer: _Soul Eater_ doesn't belong to me. I just play with the plushies and squeeze the stuffing out of Soul!**

**Summary: A visit from Blair makes Maka realize what's been bugging her since this date began.**

* * *

"MAAAAKAAAA!"

_Oh great, just what I need now, _Maka thought, rolling her eyes. She and Nestor turned to see Spirit come barrelling down the lane with his arms wide open, heading straight for Maka. "My angel dearest! You're wearing the dress I bought you!"

_Oh, Death on toast! _swore Maka silently. "Papa, stop right there!" she shouted.

Amazingly, Spirit obeyed and stopped on a dime. His eyes locked onto Nestor, obviously perplexed as to why the male beside his Maka wasn't Soul. "Who the hell are you?" he snarled.

Nestor stuck out his hand. "Deathscythe-sama, my name's Nestor Cartright, the Demon Spear. It's truly an honor to meet you, sir," he said courteously.

Mollified but not completely appeased, Spirit shook the younger weapon's hand. "I've heard about you, Cartright. That was good work on the Monaco mission last month."

"Thank you, sir."

Now amicable friends, the two weapons began talking about this mission, leaving Maka to stand there awkwardly. Seeing her father being nice to a boy was just...really, really weird. She couldn't help but compare Spirit's tolerance of Nestor to his extreme dislike of Soul.

"Nyah, Maka-chan!"

"Hi Blair," Maka said, greeting the purple-haired woman as she approached. "What are you doing with Papa?"

"Bu-tan was curious about your date with Spear-Boy, nyah~" said Blair. "Spirit heard 'date' and ran ahead." Her nose scrunched up as she looked over Nestor. "Meh."

Maka's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Meh? Did you just rate a handsome boy as 'meh'? Who are you and what have you done with Blair?"

"Bu-tan is Bu-tan," Blair tut-tutted at the meister. "Bu-tan isn't stupid, nyah. She knows that Scythe-Boy's the only one for her." She cocked her head to the side. "Doesn't Maka-chan feel the same way?"

Maka looked over to her father and her date as a chirp from his pocket made Nestor stop in mid-sentence. "Excuse me, that's my phone," he said, taking the device out to check the screen. "Oh, this is important. Will you excuse me?"

"Of course." Spirit walked back to Maka and nodded at Nestor's retreating back. "A very nice boy."

"Papa likes him," Maka stated observantly. She could hear Blair yawning behind her, but the magical cat never said a word. "He's a very nice gentleman."

"Yes. Much better than that albino octopus-head bastard," Spirit said harshly. "Papa would love it if you became Cartright's meister, Maka!"

"I'm a scythe meister, Papa."

"Spears and scythes are almost identical, just a difference in heft and blade. Your mother was very skillful with pole weapons in general," Spirit revealed. "And you could still use Witch Hunter."

"No, Papa." The very idea of giving up Soul felt immensely wrong. Sacrilegious, in fact. After all they'd been through, she couldn't concieve just abandoning Soul like that. "I'm not going to do that to Soul."

"He's a Deathscythe now. That alone is making the meisters line up for him to take his pick."

_Yeah right. Soul hates dealing with new people. Especially strangers who only see him for his prestige. That's why he doesn't go by Evans anymore; he hated being known for the family talent and not for himself_. Maka half-smiled to herself. _He only cares about being cool, and sticking up for his friends, and being a better Deathscythe than Papa_.

"Maka?"

She looked at him with steely eyes. "Papa, the only ways I'd ever leave Soul is if one of us dies or he says he doesn't need me."

"He can pick his own meister now," Spirit said carelessly. "You've done what you said you'd do. Now there's Cartright. He'd make an excellent Deathscythe as well. In fact, he's asked me for my blessing to ask you to be his meister."

"He what?" Maka shouted, shocked. Blair made a strangled sound behind her, almost a shocked meow. "And you said yes?"

"Of course!" Spirit threw his arms around his daughter and held her tightly. "Papa only wants what's best for my darling Maka! Cartright's a perfect fit for you!"

"But he's not Soul, papa!" Maka snapped, irritated by his words and pushy attitude in general. "He may have your blessing, but he's not Soul!" The vehemence of her words surprised them both, and Maka's eyes went wide. "He...He's not Soul," she repeated slowly.

She looked once more at Nestor and, for the first time, saw everything that had been nagging her all day. He didn't have a slouch to his stance. He didn't have a dark, sarcastic sense of humor. He didn't play piano, and certainly couldn't play the darkly fascinating music that Maka secretly adored. He didn't have an air of coolness around him. He didn't see her Papa like she did - as a perverted womanizer - and dislike him as well.

Now that she noticed, Nestor didn't even _look _right. He wouldn't look handsome in a red shirt, black tie, and black pinstriped suit.

His smile wasn't as sharp as his teeth, able to make her go weak in the knees.

His hair wasn't messy and white as a summer cloud, and didn't even look as soft.

His eyes weren't crimson like red wine, or as alluring as the stars.

His soul wasn't twisted and dark in that perfect way to compliment hers.

_Oh Death, _she thought in shock. _I - I've made a mistake. Nestor's not my type at all. It's actually _-

"I - I have to go."

Spirit blinked. "What? Why?"

"Something important. Papa, tell Nestor I'm sorry." She turned to Blair and said, "Mind giving me a pumpkin ride home?"

* * *

**Go Maka!**

**Review this please!**


	4. Reunion

**Reunion**

**By: DemonClowSorceress**

******Disclaimer: _Soul Eater_ doesn't belong to me. I just play with the plushies and squeeze the stuffing out of Soul!**

**Summary: It's hard to admit when you were wrong. Luckily, neither one said "I told you so."**

* * *

Soul slouched on the couch, trying not to think about Maka or her date. A half-empty cup of cocoa sat on the coffee table next to his feet, his fourth since she left two hours before. His favorite jazz record played in the background, soothing his jangled and angry nerves into some semblance of calm.

It wasn't working as well as he'd hoped.

He couldn't stop picturing Maka in that green dress and black jacket, those heels giving her legs more of a boost than her boots. She was, in his eyes, more than beautiful. Picking the outfit had been a reflex, a slip-up of his own desire to see her in something other than her uniforms, casual clothes, or that black lace creation she sported in his mind's Black Room. When she wore said outfit, his heart had almost stopped.

And Cartright was going to be seen with her, the lucky bastard. People were going to see his meister out walking with that guy and think, "Wow, what a nice couple."

Once more Soul cursed himself for trying to be such a good guy. He'd always thrown out all of Maka's letters just to avoid having this crappy feeling. Being jealous was not cool. Being afraid of getting ditched was not cool. But he was both right now, and it scared him.

Maka wasn't the only one with a fear of abandonment. Soul harbored the secret fear that someday Maka would want to move on, to make another Deathscythe. Cartright could probably be that replacement.

Well, there were worse weapons in Shibusen she could've had. He'd probably take care of Maka.

_And if he doesn't... _Soul absently transformed his arm into a scythe and checked its razor-sharp edge. _I can always - _

"Blair, we're flying too faaaaaaaast!"

He shot up when he heard Maka's approaching scream. Changing his arm back to normal, he rose from the couch and headed for the front door. _The hell was Maka doing back so early? And why with Blair? _he wondered. _Unless Cartright... _Sudden rage made him yank the door open and yell, "Maka? What happened?"

Actually, he only got as far as "Maka, wha - " before his throat closed up in shock. Maka was in the process of hopping off one of Blair's Flying Pumpkins like a curfew-breaking Cinderella, her jacket in hand and her hair flying around her head like a halo. Her face was flushed, but from anger or the flight back was hard to determine.

"Soul, I'm ba - Oh!" she said, stopping right in front of him. Her eyes widened in surprise before glancing away. "I, uh, I'm back."

"Welcome back." She didn't look upset or hurt. At least on the outside. Soul stepped aside and let his meister enter the apartment, then turned to face Blair. "Not that I'm complaining, but why did you bring her home?"

Blair's cat smile was as satisfied as if she'd just lapped up the finest cream. "Maka-chan just figured out what Bu-tan's always known, nyah~!" she purred, leaning over her pumpkin and twirling one purple lock of hair. "Be good to her, Scythe-Boy! Bu-tan's going back to work, nyah~"

He waved goodbye to the pumpkin-riding magical cat, then went inside again. Maka was standing at the record player with her back to him, apparently listening to his jazz record. He didn't want to, but his curiosity was burning to find out what urged Maka to ditch Nestor.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I cut it short with Nestor. Blair let me bum a ride home."

"Why? I thought he was _practically __perfect_," Soul said, pitching his voice to mimic hers and wincing at the heavy dose of sarcasm it had.

But Maka surprised him. Instead of chucking a book at his head, she just shrugged offhandedly. "Yeah. But I found out that a practically perfect partner isn't for me." Maka looked at the Demon Scythe with a fond smile. "I much prefer the partner I have now."

_Partner_. That word again. Soul jammed his hands in his pockets and glanced at the wall. "That so? What, his perfect looks and winning smile and oh-so-wonderful gentleman manners too much for a rude tiny-tits like you?" _Smooth, Evans. You're one cool bastard_, he thought.

Again he braced for impact. Again she surprised him by not bashing his brains across the carpet.

"Actually, he treated me like a lady." Maka smiled as she recollected. "He paid the check, held the door for me, didn't oogle other girls, understands my musical taste, does - "

"Get to the part where I'm supposed to care," Soul bit out.

She crossed her arms and pouted. "Point is, I got bored."

"...What?"

"He was boring," she repeated. "Ordinary. And then Papa showed up - "

"Wait, your old man crashed your date?"

" - and he liked Nestor," Maka continued. "Worse, Nestor asked _him _for permission to become my weapon partner! And Papa _gave his blessing!_" She fumed as she crossed the room and flounced onto the couch. "Can you believe it?"

"No, actually," Soul replied. Spirit didn't strike him as a guy who'd approve of some dude randomly wanting to become his daughter's partner. _Then again, he **does** despise me..._

Maka huffed some more. "So you know what that means."

_Not really. _"Enlighten me."

"It means he's probably just like Papa."

Soul's eyebrow shot up. "Okay, that may be a little harsh."

"Papa talked with Nestor for ten minutes and approved him for me. What else could it mean?"

"That Spirit really hates me?" said the white-haired boy. "I thought we knew this already. When we first partnered up he tried breaking us up every chance he could."

"Huh?" Maka frowned. Apparently this was new information for her. "Why?"

"Because he didn't approve of me. He still doesn't." Deciding to test the waters, Soul grinned impishly. "According to him, I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to you."

"But you're not!" Maka objected. "I told Papa that today too! Nestor may have had his blessing, but he's not you! Nobody can replace you, Soul!"

It was sappy and stupid and _completely_ uncool, but Soul felt her words warm his broken heart and start piecing the wreckage back together. However, cynicism warned him not to read too much into it. "Because I'm your _partner_," he said, stressing the last word ever so slightly.

He picked up his mug and headed into the kitchen. He needed space, and as uncool as that was, he needed it bad. Maybe he'd call up Black*Star and see if the ninja wanted to play some one-on-one at the courts...

She must've shucked off her heels, because Soul never heard her approach. He did feel her arms encircle his middle and her body press against his back, her cheek resting just behind his suddenly-racing heart. Every muscle tensed up at the sudden contact. "Maka?"

"Don't turn around," she whispered. "This is hard for me too, okay?" She tightened her hold slightly. "I wasn't really having fun on this date. Even though I was treated like a lady and it was the best date I could've ever had, I didn't have any fun. Everything Nestor did was really nice, but I kept thinking, "Soul wouldn't do this" or "Soul would've said that" the whole time."

Soul swallowed to regain his voice. "That so."

Her fingers began to fidget and pick at each other nervously. "Then Blair said something, and I...well, I was wrong. Nestor's perfect, but perfect isn't for me."

"...What did Blair say?"

Now Maka was the one to swallow hard. "She said that...that you were the only one for her," she mumbled. "And I realized that it's the same with me."

"Because I'm your - "

"You're my partner, yes, but more than that. You're - " Her arms tightened around his torso. "You're Soul. _My_ Soul."

_All right, enough of this subtle hinting crap. _Soul twisted around in her arms, surprising Maka when his hands moved to cup her face. "Why don't you just spill the real reason?" he said, tilting her gaze upwards.

Her eyes were filled with the same stubbornness that placed the pout on her lips. "Then tell me why you've been so gloomy recently."

Soul grimaced. "You're gonna think it's uncool."

"You're the one who worries about that sort of thing."

"Okay." He glanced down, then met her eyes. "I - I was mad. And jealous. I'm not really good with people, and I'm really not good with people who like my meister." His thumb drifted to caress her cheek. "I want you all to myself, Maka. You're my meister, and nobody else's, and I'm not losing you to some pretty-boy bastard who morphs into a pointy stick."

Her pout formed a grin as twisted as his own. "You sound almost possessive, Soul Eater."

"Well, that's what happens when I fall in love with a really cool girl." Soul's crimson eyes went wide as beach balls when he realized what he'd said. His blush rivalled a tomato's for color.

Maka likewise flushed red at his words, dropping her gaze to stare at his chest. "Even though I'm a scrawny, violent tiny-tits?" she asked.

"You're my scrawny, violent tiny-tits, and anyway, I say that so other guys won't think about sniffing around what's mine."

She smiled wryly. "You're such a romantic, Soul."

"Don't spread that around. I have a cool reputation to maintain." He leaned slightly closer. "Now shut up so I can kiss you and save whatever coolness I've got left."

Instead of a verbal reply, Maka rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. She hummed when they connected; nothing in her wildest fantasies could have prepared her for the feel of Soul's kiss. She let her arms release his waist and twine around his neck to keep him close, unable to get enough of him.

Soul responded by kissing her back, hard, but gently as well. One hand moved to cradle the back of her head while the other migrated down to hold her waist. He heard her moan softly, and he smiled.

Maka pulled back slightly. "Don't gloat," she whispered against his lips. "It's so not cool."

He merely growled at being interrupted and pulled her in for another searing kiss.

* * *

**Hurray! Happy ending! With some nice fluff, yes?**

**Review this please!**


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